We spend our days in deliberating, and we end them without coming to any resolve.

Between history and the eternal I have chosen history because I like certainties. Of it, at least, I am certain, and how can I deny this force crushing me.

I do not want to found anything on the incomprehensible. I want to know whether I can live with what I know and with that alone.

When I was young, I expected from people more than they could give: neverending friendship and constant excitement. Now I expect less than they can actually can give: to stay close silently. And their feelings, friendship, noble deeds always seem like a miracle to me: a true grace.

but perhaps we should love what we cannot understand

False judges are held up in the world's admiration and I alone know the true ones.

Thus, in a middle course between these heights and depths, they drifted through life rather than lived, the prey of aimless days and sterile memories, like wandering shadows that could have acquired substance only by consenting to root themselves in the solid earth of their distress.